A Witch in Bludhaven
by Willow-Bee the Cat
Summary: Hermione has never been one to ignore a challenge, but Officer Grayson may be more of one than she can handle. Meanwhile, Nightwing begins to investigate one of the more dangerous mysteries of Bludhaven. Hermione/Dick Grayson DC Comics/HP crossover
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit from Nightwing, Batman, etc… or from Harry Potter.

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Hermione Granger

Spoilers: Up thru No Man's Land, ignores Graduation Day, Wars Games, and the death of Blockbuster. For HP, thru book seven, ignores nineteen years later.

Rating: T

Summary: Hermione has never been one to ignore a challenge, but Officer Grayson may be more of one than she can handle. Meanwhile, Nightwing begins to investigate one of the more dangerous mysteries of Bludhaven. Hermione/Dick Grayson, a DC Comics/Harry Potter crossover

Author's Notes: I know that I have things to do and stories to update, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone until I began to write it. Please keep in mind that one of the challenges of writing a crossover of this nature is that the Wizarding world in the Harry Potter books is implied to be much larger than what the magical population of the DC version of Earth seems to be. Also, all those of you who love Barbara Gordon, I like her, I really do, but I'm not sure that I'd ever be able to write her in a relationship with Dick for reasons to numerous to mention. Now, for those of you who question the idea of Dick in a relationship with Hermione… just think about the personalities of Kory and Barbara.

* * *

Chapter 1

"Grayson, how much can I put you in for?" asked McDougal.

Connor McDougal was a good enough sort, as far as Bludhaven police officers went. He was relatively competent and mostly followed the law. Although he seemed to spend more of his time running the station's betting pools than doing his job.

"Starting a new pool?" asked Dick.

"Didn't you hear? We got a call about Granger yesterday. Just assault this time. The idiot attacked her on the middle of a Seven Eleven."

"What are you talking about?"

McDougal blinked, then stared at Dick as if he were an idiot. His eyes then widened in realization. "You missed last time, didn't you?"

"Missed what?" What on earth was McDougal talking about?

"Right. Every couple of weeks, we get a call in about a crime which involves this English chick, Granger. She's always either the victim or a witness to the crime. Far as we can tell, she's either pissed off somebody dangerous or she's got the worst luck in the world."

"Somebody local?"

"Nah," McDougal shook his head. "So, you want in? You can bet on when the next crime will be, what it'll be, and/or how Granger will be involved."

* * *

The inn was little more than a hole in the wall. There was no sign to tell possible patrons of its existence and numerous wards which gently suggested that normal humans find someplace else for a bite to eat and a cool drink or a room upstairs while protecting it from the notice of those who would mean its patrons harm.

Though the inn served as the local pub for the enclave, it was also a place to spend time with others of their kind without much worry about revealing themselves to those of a more mundane persuasion. At any time, one might here conversations in languages from Spanish to Farsi to Cantonese, though English was for all intents and purposes the official language of the patrons.

It was a small community, no more than three hundred strong at any one time, with two hundred thirty full time residents a hundred fifty part time or seasonal residents. They did not live in any one neighborhood but rather, all over the city of Bludhaven. Few worked in the traditional pursuits of their kind, fewer still catered exclusively to the community as the Clearwater Inn did.

It was a community of exiles, refugees, expatriates, and criminals who shared few things in common. They were no longer welcome in their country of origin for reasons ranging from going against cultural norms to being exiled to the probability that that they would be executed should they return, and they were all either magical in nature, or related in some way to somebody of magical origin be it by marriage or blood.

There were numerous magical enclaves in the world. Most, such as the Wizarding were quite insular in nature. Others, like the community known simply as the Bludhaven Magical Enclave did their best to blend in with the mundane city and people surrounding them.

Though the enclave did prefer to blend in, there were some things which could not be brought to the non-magical government. The enclave was run by the Council, which consisted of nine people elected every nine years. One Council seat was up for election each year in a rotating schedule meant to keep the council stable. The Council itself served as the court system as well.

Though all children were expected to attend non-magical schools, during the weekends, the enclave ran a school which taught them magical and non-magical subjects the people felt the children should know. A little over two dozen magic users taught the children, though only four were full time teachers paid for their work. The rest were volunteers who taught more specific classes and skills.

The enclave also had its own law enforcement run by a sheriff. The sheriff was appointed by the Council, though he or she picked the deputies. Though the members of the enclave were expected to be able to deal with crimes committed against them themselves, there any number of things for the Sheriff to do.

In the aftermath of the second war with Voldemort, quite a few of the Wizarding from the British Isles had chosen to leave. Most joined Wizarding enclaves more sympathetic to their views on blood superiority. Some, such as the five at a small table in the Clearwater Inn and two behind the bar had left because of their disillusionment with their former community.

Penelope Clearwater-Weasley, proprietor of the Clearwater Inn had left shortly after the Muggle-born Registration Commission was formed. Percy Weasley had waited until after the Battle of Hogwarts to join his fiancé, choosing to do what little he could to protect other Muggle-borns during the war. It had not become apparent until several months after the Battle of Hogwarts that many of the Muggle-borns and Half-bloods that had survived encounters with the Commission owed their lives to Percy.

Dean Thomas had left after the war, most assumed because of the year he'd spent avoiding snatchers and the like. Hermione was of the opinion that though that may have contributed to his leaving, Luna Thomas nee Lovegood was the true reason. Luna had never quite been the same after all that had happened and being around almost daily reminders had certainly not helped. Luna was now studying to be a veterinarian while Dean worked as an art teacher at a local high school.

Neville Longbottom had joined the enclave several months before, bringing his wife, Hannah with him. Neither had mentioned their reasons for joining and nobody had been asked. Neville had quickly been appointed Sheriff by the Council. Among the other former citizens of the British Wizarding enclave, common theory was that he'd been exposed to something during his time as an Auror that was by his standards unforgiveable. His parents had been moved to a local non-magical mental institution that actually seemed to be of more help to them than Saint Mungo's ever was.

As for Hermione Granger… she had not chosen the Bludhaven Magical Enclave, the Council had invited her to join. Though Herrmione was sure that after her trial and subsequent exile, the only reason she'd been invited to join the enclave was Percy's position on the Council.

Hermione knew the only reason that the Wizengamot had sentenced her to exile from the British Isles for both her and any descendents she might have because she counted both Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt among her friends. Perhaps she'd been a bit foolhardy to both the old magics after going back to Hogwarts to finish up her seventh year at Hogwarts, but she did not feel that the Wizengamot had any reason to hold her knowledge of sorcery against her.

Jacob and Elena Granger had known from the beginning that Hermione had been homo magi rather than homo sapien. Long before she'd received her Hogwarts invitation, Jacob had arranged for her to be tutored in magic-more specifically, sorcery. Professor Dumbledore had come himself to tell the Grangers about Hogwarts. It would not be until months later that Hermione had realized how unusual it was for the headmaster to do the recruiting and even longer for her to understand what Dumbledore had really meant when he'd warned her not to mention her knowledge of sorcery and experience with magic because it would make the other students jealous.

The European Wizarding held sorcerers in such contempt that even Voldemort's hatred of Dumbledore and Harry seemed quite mild in comparison with few exceptions. One such exception was the Bludhaven Magical Enclave, which contained not just Wizarding members, but ones trained in different branches of magic as well. The exact reasoning for the hatred the Wizarding possessed for other branches of magic was unclear, but seemed to be connected to the magic wars which had been started by the Roman conquest. However, the old magics, the ones native to the British Isles were outlawed. To learn any of their spells was almost an automatic death sentence.

Though Hermione had only been exiled, the Wizengamot and a number of other groups still wanted to see her dead. As a result, more assassins than she cared to think about had attempted to kill her. Hermione might not have been all that good in a fight, but few could beat her knowledge of magic. Hermione worked as an independent spellcrafter, creating new spells for a price. Much of her free time was spent creating new spells that combined several branches of magic. Many of these spells were put to work protecting herself and her apartment, but more of them were filed away, waiting for the book she fully intended to write… eventually. Dean had once jokingly commented that Hermione was trying to create her own branch of magic. Luna and Hermione were the only ones not to laugh at the joke.

"I heard about yesterday. That's what, the third this year?" said Penelope, setting out the food and drinks which had been ordered.

"Fourth," sighed Hermione. "I don't know where they keep getting them from."

"Who was it this time?" asked Hannah.

"An Unspeakable. I bound his powers and gave him to the cops."

Neville shook his head. "I don't know why you don't just strip them of their powers. Bindings can be undone."

Hermione shrugged. "But not until they get out of prison. You know I only bind the less dangerous ones."

"It's not like they don't deserve it. Maybe living as a muggle for a couple months will help them." Dean shrugged. "And Hermione does strip the more dangerous ones of their powers."

"Oh, Professor Medhat wanted me to thank you for the new lab rats." Luna gave her a dreamy smile. "They seem to be doing quite well with their more natural kin."

"I'd forgotten how vicious you could be," said Penelope.

"Well they shouldn't have threatened my family." Hermione quickly changed the subject. "You'll never believe what I've been contracted to create." Once sure she had their attention she continued. "A new ward for Salem school of Witchcraft to keep metahumans out..."

* * *

It was all Dick could do not to leave his shift early. It seemed McDougal had been kind when describing Ms. Granger and her continual run-ins with criminals.

She was a former British citizen, now an American citizen, who had lived in the country for just over two years. During that time, the police had been called no less than eleven times to deal with burglars in her apartment, though it seemed to have tapered off quite a bit. During her first six months in Bludhaven, there'd been no less than seven break-ins. Ms. Granger had been publically assaulted thirteen times and the witness to eight crimes ranging from robbery to kidnapping.

The majority of the people arrested had spent quite a bit of time ranting about magic. More specifically, that Ms. Granger had stolen their magic.

This certain bore some looking in to.

* * *

The man was huddled in a corner of the small cell. He flinched at the slightest noise from his sleeping cellmate. Dick hadn't been sure what to expect, but this was not it.

Dressed as Nightwing, Dick had snuck into Blackgate to speak to one of the people who'd assaulted Ms. Granger. Though there were several minutes of missing time on the security video and no witnesses, the jury had had no problem convicting Theodore Nott of attempted homicide and assault with a deadly weapon with the evidence there was.

What little video there was and the injuries documented by the police and Ms. Granger's doctor had been horrific. Dick couldn't help but wonder what had happened during that missing time-not that it was something he truly wanted to know. Nott should have gotten much worse. It was obvious from the medical records that he'd tortured Ms. Granger.

"W-who's there?" demanded Nott, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

* * *

Dick paused mid gulp, then quickly put down the liter of beer before it spilled all over himself. He glanced around, and then quickly looked at his beer upon noticing the strange looks he was being given by the other patrons of the bar and the bartender.

What the hell? He didn't remember going to the bar. Or any other bar that night.

How had he ended up here? The last thing he remembered was having dinner then heading out on patrol. One panicked glance was enough to confirm that he was in civilian clothing, not his Nightwing uniform.

Dick stood, almost knocking the table over and walked out of the bar. Spotting his motorcycle, Dick dug around his pockets for his keys. He didn't care how drunk he might be, he just wanted to get back to his apartment and figure out what had happened.

A quick look around his apartment had revealed his uniform in the middle of his bedroom. Now even more concerned, Dick pulled up the security video from earlier that night.

Dick's eyes narrowed as he watched himself sneak into his apartment, change into civilian clothing, then walk right back out. There'd been no care taken to keep his identity secret. His movements had seemed almost like those of a sleepwalker or of somebody in a trance.

At that thought, Dick went through the security video again. A trance of some sort could explain it. Though how had he ended up in a trance? And why had he woken in a bar all the way across Bludhaven? Not that he was even sure that was what had happened.

Dick picked up his uniform and went to put it back in Dr. Fledermaus's apartment. Once the uniform was put away, he set about trying to figure out where he'd intended to patrol. He remembered deciding to take a detour from his patrol schedule, but couldn't remember what detour he'd intended to take.

He paused at the sight of a file. It was labeled with the name Hermione Granger.

That was it! That was what he'd intended to do. He'd wanted to take a look at Ms. Granger's apartment.

It was not because of any one thing that he'd found in her records, but rather the build up of things. Not only were there suspicious gaps in her records, but a bit of digging had revealed that she had not chosen to leave England, she'd been exiled. Though Dick had not been able to find the reason for her exile.

Judging by the number of attacks and break-ins, along with the evidence he'd been able to find and the interviews he'd had with several of her attackers, somebody wanted Ms. Granger dead. It wasn't clear why they wanted her dead, although it seemed to be either because of what she was-whatever that meant-or something she'd done.

* * *

Dick blinked. This was becoming familiar, though he wasn't sure exactly why this particular bar was familiar to him.

It was not until several hours later that Dick realized exactly why the bar had been familiar.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: 1) Right, I'm assuming that the people reading this story know who the various members of the Bat family are. For those of you who don't, at the time of this story, Tim Drake is the third and current Robin. Barbara "Babs" Gorden is the former Batgirl currently Oracle. Helena Bertinelli is Huntress. Cassandra Cain is the current Batgirl. The less said about Azrael the better. Did I forget anybody?

2) I'm seriously considering making Hermione's father a bit more important. However, I'm not sure if I'm going to go down that road. If I do, he'll be related to one of the Golden Age capes and a cannon character that hasn't shown up in forever and a day, but I'm not sure that I intend to go there. If you have any opinions on that tell me, please.

* * *

Chapter 2

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she examined her apartment's fire escape. It seemed that her wards had been breeched. Twice. Oh, to be technical, only the outermost layer of wards had actually proved ineffectual, but even that was unacceptable. Particularly given the circumstances.

First and foremost in her mind was the question of why a Muggle would be interested in her. Hermione could not remember doing anything noteworthy in public and all her records were in place. Perhaps it had been a thief. Many of her books were visible from the street and quite a number of them were valuable.

No. It couldn't be a thief. If the person attempting to break in to her apartment had intended to steal something, an entirely different set of wards would have activated.

The person had not intended her harm, either. Those who intended to harm Hermione, her friends, her family, or her apartment and managed to get past the first layer of wards were automatically sent to her magically enlarged and heavily warded hall closet. So the person could not be a non-magical or metahuman assassin contracted by one of her enemies.

Unless the person had merely intended to case her apartment before trying to kill her.

Hermione sat down heavily. That was a distinct possibility. A terrifying possibility.

She could deal with magic. When one knew what they were doing, magic was quite easy to work around, to work against. But protecting herself from guns, bombs, and physical fighting was not something Hermione had any skills in.

Jake Granger had offered to teach Hermione to fight twice; when he began to teach the oldest of her younger brothers, Theo, and when he had learned of Voldemort's resurrection. Hermione had turned him down both time. The first out of arrogance-by that point, Hermione had believed her magic capable of protecting her from anything-the second out of resignation and the reality of the situation she faced-though Hermione had considered her father's offer, by that point there was not enough time for her to learn anything particularly useful before heading to Burrow. As it was, though some knowledge of physical fighting might have helped her escape first the snatchers and later Bellatrix LeStrange's torture, in the end, she'd needed knowledge of magic, not physical defense to help win the war.

Hermione considered calling her father for advice, but decided against it. Jake had always been very protective of his daughters and would probably overreact to the situation. There was a distinct possibility that he'd either come to Bludhaven to help protect her or send Theo or Pete to play bodyguard until the situation was dealt with.

There was nothing for it, then. She'd have to wait for the person-whoever it was-to make the next move. That did not, however, stop her from setting up a layer of wards around her apartment building. Hermione had no desire to allow her neighbors to be harmed because of her presence.

* * *

It was all Dick could do not to let out a growl of annoyance. After his second unintended trip to the bar and loss of several hours of time, he'd decided to take a few more precautions.

Now knowing that it was a good possibility that he would forget the entire evening, Dick had written down several reminders before leaving and taken a number of cameras with him. Though Dick did not remember taking the cameras with him, or even setting them up, it seemed that that part had been successful. Unfortunately, what the recordings showed was not something he'd wanted to come up against. Science was a thousand times easier to deal with than magic. He wasn't actually sure it was magic, but all signs seemed to point to it.

The two cameras attached to him had stopped working several feet from the fire escape. However, the others he'd set up had recorded his attempt to enter Ms. Granger's apartment.

As Nightwing, Dick had climbed down to the fire escape attached to Ms. Granger's apartment with ease. It was at that point that things got strange. Dick had moved to open the window, only to stop nearly a foot away. The next half hour was spent struggling to reach the window, though by that point Dick wondered why he hadn't tried a different window or even the door.

He'd managed to touch the glass, only to freeze up when he did so. Dick had then mechanically turned and climbed down the fire escape. The next video of himself that Dick could find was of sneaking back into his apartment to change before heading out to the bar that was becoming far too familiar.

Dick momentarily considered asking to advice of a magic user before brushing the thought off. At the moment it seemed harmless enough, if a bit worrying. If his other attempts to enter Ms. Granger's apartment failed or what seemed to be magic turned violent, then he'd ask for advice.

* * *

"Is that for Salem's new ward?" asked Neville.

Hermione looked up from her arithmantic equations to her companion before shaking her head. "I'm adding to the wards around me apartment."

"Did something happen?" he asked, now concerned.

"Nothing for you to get involved in. At least not yet," Hermione added as an afterthought.

Neville looked like he was about to say something before reconsidering. "So what does this ward do?"

"It coats anybody who manages to get past my first layer in a magical residue which should allow me to track down anybody who attempted to enter my apartment without permission and warn me if the person if near."

"Has somebody been trying to get into your apartment again? I though they'd learned their lesson after what you did to Cooper. Last I heard, they were still finding pieces of him."

"Don't worry about it, Neville," insisted Hermione as she drank some of her coffee. "If I need the sheriff to intervene, I'll tell you."

* * *

It was one of the smallest classrooms in the community center, though completely full. As far as the neighborhood was concerned, the community center belonged to an obscure religious group. During the weekends the center was full of children coming and going from various classes, presumably religious in nature. During the weekdays, the center hosted the nine who seemed to be in charge of the mysterious religion. On weeknights, there were always at least two or three groups meeting in the center.

And if the Council encouraged the idea that the Bludhaven Magical Enclave, known locally as the BME, were members of an orthodox religion nobody objected. How better to hide a group from such traditional backgrounds in plain sight? Nobody thought the women in long skirts with long covered hair at all odd in that light. Nor did they question why the children wore such strange clothing or why half the time the members spoke of things that made no sense to an outside observer.

It was seven in the morning on a Saturday and all eight of her students had showed up. As far as Hermione was concerned, it was already well on it's way to becoming a good day. Particularly when one took into account what classes she taught.

Though the BME's members encompassed nearly a dozen different branches of magic, Hermione was the only member well versed in traditional Celtic magics and the Celtic variation of sorcery. Her mother was Welsh and when looking for Hermione's original sorcery tutor, years before, had insisted she be taught the form of sorcery used throughout the Six Nations; Whales, Scotland, Ireland, Cornwall, Brittany, and the Isle of Man.

Most members of the enclave were far more interested in either Wizarding magic or the more traditional magics of their people. During the weekend Hermione offered a number of classes: Beginners Celtic Magics, Advanced Celtic Magics, and Celtic Sorcery (which required everybody in the class to have taken advanced sorcery classes). The ages of her students ranged from school children to adults.

Her Advanced Celtic Magics class had studied with her the year before in what was then merely called Celtic Magics. All eight of them had returned after the summer to continue their education in Celtic Magics. She'd had to make two classes this year because there were a number of children who'd been signed up for her Celtic Magics class by their parents.

"Protection Circles," announced Hermione as a piece of chalk levitated behind her, writing the relevant information on the chalk board. "Last year, we studied how they could be used to contain everything from a volatile potion to protecting those outside the circle from dangerous magics. Today, we'll learn other uses of protection circles. Now, you're camping in the forest and want to protect yourself and your supplies from wild animals, does anybody have any suggestions on how to do so?"

One of the students quickly volunteered an answer. "Set the circle around your campsite and set it up to shield with…"

Hermione listened carefully as the teenager spoke. Once she was done, Hermione said, "It would work, but can anybody tell me what problems that would have?"

"It would have to let air in and out, otherwise the camper would suffocate," said Luna. "The scent would escape and could attract animals like bears or jackalopes."

Hermione shut her eyes, mentally counted to five, then continued, "Good. Does anybody else spot something wrong with this plan?"

"What if a Muggle comes along? They'd be able to see but not enter the camp site. They might even see the circle. Not only would it tell them that the camper has powers, but the person might think the camper in trouble and call the authorities."

"Good. Anything else?"

* * *

Tim didn't bother to look up as Nightwing swung onto the roof. He was too busy attempting to read the lips of four gang members in an alley four stories below. With Batman in the JLA Watchtower on monitor duty, Dick had agreed to help patrol Gotham for the evening.

"Anything?" asked Dick, his voice low with a growl to it that suggested an unusual amount of anger.

"Yeah." Tim looked up as the people he'd been watching walked off. "They-Something wrong?"

Had something happened? Were Dick and Babs fighting again? Dick and Bruce? Was Blockbuster attempting some sort of takeover? Was there a gang war going on in Bludhaven? Did something happen with the Titans?

"Nothing's wrong," growled Dick, almost channeling Batman at his most frightening.

"Uh, right. You need me for anything? I should follow…" Tim motioned.

Dick gave him an almost regretful look, as he'd realized how he was acting. "Nothing's wrong," he repeated, voice much gentler. "Just have a lot on my mind." He paused, opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered. "Go on. I'll see you Thursday."

Wondering just what was going on, Tim nodded, then jumped from the building.

* * *

Obviously, breaking into Ms. Granger's apartment was not going to work. After he'd realized the problem with entering the apartment through the window connected to the fire escape, Dick had tried every other entrance into the apartment. Every time he'd ended up back in that bar, several hours of memories missing and in civilian clothing.

He would have left her alone, but there were too many suspiscious things around Ms. Granger. The supposed criminals who alternately claimed that she'd either stolen their powers or that she'd bound their powers. If either were true, Dick certainly did not want a person doing that sort of thing in his city. He still didn't know why she'd been exiled from England either. If nothing else, Dick wanted to know just who was after Ms. Granger and what she'd done to earn that person's ire. He couldn't help but admit that he also wanted to know how she'd managed to do what she'd done to him.

Perhaps a change in tactics was necessary. If he could not get into her apartment, then he would approach her while she was out of the apartment. The only question was which way he should do that.

* * *

Hermione had to give it to her newest assassin. He was one of the most determined to come after her. However, since he seemed to be unable to get past her wards, Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before he came after her when she was out of her apartment.

When she'd moved to Bludhavem Hermione had known the local cops were corrupt, but she hadn't realized just how corrupt they were. With her new ward in place, Hermione had been able to use the magical residue on her would be assassin to scry for him. The last person she had expected was Officer Richard J. Grayson.

Hermione had been unable to find out who had paid Officer Grayson to kill her-for now she was sure that he was an assassin, not a thief-but it was obviously quite a bit, judging by how hard he was trying. Unfortunately, it meant that she could not use her usual tactics for dealing with assassins. Officer Grayson was a cop; she couldn't capture him and turn him over to his fellow police officers claiming he'd attacked her. No doubt the Bludhaven PD and the DA would support Grayson. If she angered them enough, she just might end up in jail herself.

Obviously she had to take care of Grayson herself. If she could survive the encounter with him. As a Muggle, Grayson was certainly protected from some of the nastier things she'd done to people who'd attempted to hurt Hermione's younger brothers and sister to get to her. Well, what little was left of them after her father had gotten his hands one them.

Maybe she should call her father. He had far more underworld connections than any dentist should. Then again, Jake Granger had supported himself through university and dental school as a professional fighter. Perhaps professional was the incorrect word. To be technical, he'd fought on the underground mixed martial arts circuit.

Hermione didn't know much about Jake's past before he entered a university and she didn't want to know. She knew that he'd once been an American and had been drafted during the Vietnam War. There were several years between when he'd finished his tour of duty and when he'd arrived in Cardiff that Jake refused to speak about. Not that Hermione had ever been willing to ask. She didn't know anything about her paternal grandparents or any other member of her father's family. The one time Theo had asked, Jake had left the house without saying a word, returning several hours later almost too drunk to stand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's Note: I think I've decided to stay with Jake being important, but I'm not sure yet. Now, when you read this chapter, please remember that Hermione and Dick are both working off limited information. As a result, incredibly wrong conclusions are to be expected. Now, if anybody says anything about Dick's appearance, just remember, he is, for all intents and purposes considered quite attractive by his female counterparts in the DC universe.

I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest, but I felt it best to stop where I did. Now that I've said all that, I'll stop talking.

Chapter 3

It had taken Dick very little time to come to the conclusion that meeting Ms. Granger as Nightwing would be incredibly stupid. It would, for all intents and purposes be picking a fight with somebody he did not know the capabilities of. That being the case, he would have to approach her as Dick Grayson.

He'd considered a number of approaches once that was decided. Joining her religious community and using it to meet her was out of the question. The BME was very insular in nature and it was almost impossible to join.

He couldn't use her job to meet her either. Ms. Granger worked for herself, picking and choosing which jobs she took. Unfortunately, all Dick could find about her job was that she was an "independent craftswoman." He'd been unable to find out exactly what type of artisan she was, but one look at her taxes had confirmed that she was almost constantly working on one commission or another.

Dick had then considered befriending Ms. Granger. However, there were several problems with that idea. It seemed that Ms. Granger associated almost exclusively with her fellow members of the BME and was rarely in public outside of involvement with the group. Not to mention that as a friend he might well be unable to get close enough to her to find out exactly what she was doing.

He could, of course, use his Robbie Malone identity, but didn't feel it necessary. At least not at this point. To meet her in uniform, as Officer Grayson would be asking for trouble.

Which left him only one moderately good option. Luckily, his surveillance had revealed a number of rather good options for "chance" meetings.

Hermione twitched, hand moving to where her wand was hidden as she thought of which spell to use at the sound of something falling. Keeping her shopping cart between herself and the source of the noise, Hermione turned. She relaxed, mentally berating herself at the sight of a woman and several children, one of whom had knocked several boxes off a shelf.

This wasn't good. Grayson had her jumping at shadows. She hadn't been this scared since before the war ended. Only this time Harry and Ron weren't there to watch her back. No. She shouldn't think of Ron. Shouldn't think of what he had done.

Part of Hermione hoped that she'd made a mistake in creating the ward. But she'd gone over the equations, incantations, and the ward itself a dozen times over. It was doing what it was supposed to. Unfortunately, that meant that Grayson really was following her.

It wasn't obvious, and more times than not, Hermione thought it her overstressed psyche playing tricks on her, but Grayson had to be following her. Every once in a while, she'd sense a bit of the magical residue that had been left on Grayson. It was always almost out of reach. And it was driving her crazy.

Hermione had worked herself up to the point where to finally be attacked would be a relief. She wanted this over with. She wanted Grayson to do whatever he was planning so that she could finally react. So that she could feel a little less nervous in public.

Even with that hanging over her head, Hermione normally wasn't that jumpy. However, for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, Grayson had been far closer than he'd been since his last attempt to break into her apartment. In fact, it seemed that he was getting steadily closer.

Hermione had considered leaving the market and asking one of her friends to pick up her food instead, but she refused to let Grayson intimidate her in that way. Hopefully, the busy public place would encourage Grayson to rethink his plans to kill her or at least limit what he could do. After all, no matter how corrupt the Bludhaven PD was, he wouldn't be able to get away with killing her in public. Well, she hoped he wouldn't be able to get away with such a thing.

She pushed her cart to the cereal aisle and began to search for the oatmeal she liked. Hermione let out a sigh when she realized it was on the top shelf.

Theo, Irene, and Jimmy had taken after their father and his height while Hermione and Pete had taken after their mother in coloring and height. At 4'11, Hermione was an inch shorter than Elena. Irene was nearly 5'7 and she was only eleven while Theo was over six feet tall. It just wasn't fair.

Standing on her tip toes, Hermione attempted to reach the oatmeal without resorting to magic or climbing the shelves. The hair on the back of her neck stood as she felt a presence at her back. He smelled quite nice-perhaps it was old spice. A large hand took the box she was reaching for down from the shelf as Hermione backed up a step, accidentally bumping into the man behind her.

She spun around as the man said, "Is this what you wanted, Miss?"

Her eyes widened. It was all Hermione could do not to shake. The man before her quite handsome with hair that was truly black, tanned, olive skin, and the most amazingly blue eyes she'd ever seen. Hermione stood her ground as the tall, well muscled man stood over her.

It seemed that Grayson had found her. And unfortunately, they were the only ones in the aisle. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a spell to use that would not only protect her, but also not raise the interest of any nearly Muggles, should they happen the see her.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asked, now looking concerned. Obviously Grayson was a better actor than she'd suspected. "Do you need to sit down?"

"I-I…" Where was her Gryffindor courage? She'd faced down numerous Death Eaters. She'd survived Bellatrix LeStrange's torture without breaking. Why did she allow this man to terrify her so? "T-thank you for taking the oatmeal down for me. I was afraid I would have to do something uncouth."

Watching Grayson carefully for any sudden movements, Hermione took the box from his hands. She dropped it into the shopping cart. He carried one of the baskets supplied by the store with a number of fruits and vegetables in it along with pasta, sauce, cheese, bread, and meat from the store deli. Grayson really did look like he was in the store to shop. If Hermione hadn't known the truth, she certainly would have believed his cover.

"We can't have that," said Grayson, giving her a blinding smile. "I'm Dick."

After several long moments, Hermione introduced herself. "Hermione."

"British?"

"Welsh," replied Hermione, wondering exactly what game Grayson was playing at.

"Very pretty area. I visited Cardiff and Newport a couple times as a child."

Obviously he wanted to make conversation, though for the life of her, Hermione could not figure out why. "I've never been to either. I grew up in Holyhead."

Was he coming on too strong? He wasn't even trying to flirt just yet, but obviously Ms. Granger was frightened. She wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it.

Still talking, Dick carefully examined Ms. Granger. She watched him too closely with large brown eyes that were almost wild with fear. Though she seemed to desperately want to run away, her feet stayed firmly planted.

Perhaps her religion discouraged interaction with outside males. Or maybe she thought he was going to attack her. From what few of the men currently imprissned for attacking Ms. Granger, Dick had learned that nearly half had never met her before their attempts to kill her. Could she really be that much of a threat? Dick reminded himself of the men whose powers she had interfered with.

Despite her appearance, Ms. Granger was likely very dangerous. Not that she looked it. She was a soft looking woman with impressive curves and delicate features. It certainly didn't help that she wore her thick dark curls so long that they reached her hips when plaited as they were at the moment. Like most of the women involved in her religious group, Ms. Granger wore a skirt that ended within six inches of her ankles and a modest blouse. Kitten heels only added to the image of a delicate, feminine woman. It was certain that the way she dressed in conjunction with her appearance would lead men to underestimate her. The only question was, was this purposeful?

Was she really that bad at acting? Or was her fear just another accessory? Ms. Granger could indeed be much more dangerous then he'd originally assumed.

"I'm a cop with the Bludhaven PD," Dick explained, answering Ms. Granger's hesitant question. "You?"

"I create things," Ms. Granger explained hesitantly. "A lot of my work involves mathematics and problem solving."

"Ah," said Dick, though he still wasn't sure exactly what sort of work she did. She still seemed scared of him, but had calmed down considerably as they'd continued their grocery shopping. He considered waiting until the next time he conveniently ran into her, but then changed his mind. "I know this is a bit forward, but would you go to dinner with me?"

"I-uh." Ms. Granger seemed to have frozen again.

She stared at him, almost as if she didn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth. Perhaps he should have followed his first instinct and waited to ask her out.

"Is it… Do you have a boyfriend?" asked Dick, wondering if perhaps he'd missed something during his research.

"No. No. That's not…" Ms. Granger trailed off. "When? And where?"

"I know a nice little Italian place a couple blocks away," explained Dick. "Friday, if that's alright with you."

Ms. Granger nodded hesitantly. "Eight?"

Hermione watched Grayson walk off, wondering exactly what had happened. Why had he asked her out? Did he really want to kill her? Or did he want something else?

As it was, Hermione had agreed to go out with him only because she was getting tired of the situation. If playing along would make him reveal his purpose, then Hermione would play along. Anything was better than being terrified to spend too much time in places not protected magically.

Hopefully he would reveal something during this farce of a date. Though now, Hermione had to admit that her worries had quadrupled. It was entirely possible that he was just a cop who had noticed the unusual amount of crimes committed against and around her. Maybe he wanted to blackmail her. Or perhaps he thought she was a criminal. Or maybe he wanted to know who was out to kill her.

Or maybe he was some sort of creepy stalker type who'd attempted to break into her apartment to rape her. Hermione quickly dismissed that thought. If he were, her wards would have done much more than they had to Grayson.

Perhaps Grayson actually was an assassin. And he wanted to get a bit closer to her before killing her. Maybe figure out some way to make her death look more like an accident.

Then there was the possibility that he was a representative from the local organized crime syndicate. Hermione knew that the BME had quite successfully kept the local mob from gaining a foothold in their community. Perhaps they were trying a different method of getting a person into the BME.

Or maybe he'd attempted to break into her apartment for a reason she hadn't thought of yet. Hermione knew that she hadn't thought of all the possibilities. Yet.

She knew what Harry would advise her to do. But Hermione was unwilling to do anything to Grayson until after he broke a law. She didn't believe in preemptive strikes. She would not do anything until after Grayson did whatever it was that he intended. After all, as far as Hermione knew, he hadn't actually broken the law yet.

Hermione bit her lip as she examined her appearance in the mirror. She had to look like she cared about the date, but was unwilling to sacrifice mobility to do so.

Her hair was in a simple up do that not even the most strenuous of exercise could upset-she had not intention of leaving something easy to grab available to a man who might attack her at any moment. The dress was a simple pale green, long sleeved, high collared and warm with a skirt that would allow her to run. Her strappy heels were likewise easy to run in. Her wand had been carefully strapped to her right thigh, well hidden by the skirt.

She'd even written out a note that told Neville exactly where she'd be, who she was with and chronicled the numerous attempted break-ins. It would be delivered to him should she be incapacitated, attacked, or killed. Hopefully it would be an unnecessary precaution.

Feeling as prepared as possible, Hermione apparated from her apartment to an alley a block away from the restaurant. Hopefully she would find out what Grayson was after before the night was over.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: So, I was going through the previous chapters, and I realized that I totally should have edited them a second time before posting them. But what's done is done. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 4

It was perhaps of note that Hermione had always been the sort to consider only the worst possibilities when frightened enough. With that in mind, it came as no surprise that after thinking of several logical, slightly optimistic possibilities for Grayson's interest in her, she had dismissed them as preposterous.

After all, almost all members of the BHPD were as dirty as a cop could be. Hermione found herself incapable of even thinking that the number of times she'd been involved in crimes had resulted in her coming to the attention of one of the few members of the BHPD that was clean. Or that said clean-or as clean as a man who spends his spare time as a vigilante can be-cop was merely investigating her.

And so, despite being a truly horrible actress incapable of fooling even the most oblivious of toddlers, Hermione pretended to think her date with Grayson merely that, a date, rather than something more sinister. She didn't know if Grayson saw through her act, though she hoped him fooled. Hermione wasn't sure what Grayson would do if he knew she was onto him.

And so she found herself speaking to him truthfully-well, relatively truthfully-though she made sure to avoid all mentions of magic. It was, at this point, impossible to know what Grayson did and did not know. Hermione would rather not say something he knew untrue that might pique his interest.

"You've heard about that then," said Hermione, in response to his mention of her multitude of brushes with the law. "I imagine I've had to call nine-one-one so often that you have bets going."

At Grayson's blush, Hermione's eyes widened. "There really are bets?" she asked, aghast.

"There's a pool," admitted Grayson, looking as if any sudden movement on her part would cause him to flinch back. "I haven't placed any bets, I swear."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. "I suppose it's to be expected. Wherever there's a group of males with the collective maturity level of a nine year old, betting abounds." She let out a small, sad laugh, lost in memories of her time at Hogwarts. "In school, the Weasley twins were our house-uh, dorm-bookies. One of my friends was on the House team and they always had dozens of bets going whenever he played."

Poor sweet, horrible, wonderful Fred. She'd forgotten just how much she'd missed him. He'd spent more of her fifth and his seventh year hounding her than anybody else. And Ron had… When he'd learned, Ron had reacted so awfully, though Fred had been dead nearly three years and Hermione's relationship with him ended four years before. And part of Hermione-that awful, selfish part of her that she only acknowledged when she was alone-wished that Ron had died during the Battle of Hogwarts rather than Fred.

Noticing that Grayson was saying something, Hermione cursed herself for loosing focus. For forgetting that Grayson was the enemy and she could not drop her guard in his presence.

"I-I'm sorry. The anniversary of Fred, uh, Fred Weasley's death is coming up."

"It's alright," insisted Grayson, looking suitably sympathetic. He then changed the subject. "Do you want desert?"

"No. I'm not all that hungry anymore." Thoughts of Fred and Ron's betrayal had stripped Hermione of what little appetite she had left.

* * *

The date had gone well. At least compared to their first meeting. Dick was certain that Ms. Granger still thought him a possible threat, but she had relaxed around him several times. He'd asked for, and received, Ms. Granger's phone number, though she'd made it clear that she was more than capable of walking herself home without his help despite how dangerous Bludhaven was.

Dick hadn't even attempted to kiss her. He was merely dating her to find out what she was doing to those men. And even if it had been what Dick considered a real date, Ms. Granger was too frightened of him for Dick to, in good conscience, make such a move so early on. Not to mention that she'd flinched every time he touched her, however accidental it was after the first-and last-attempt to take her hand. It would no doubt take quite a while to discover what he wanted to know.

As it was, he made a number of notes to himself. He would have to find out who Fred Weasley was. He had obviously been very important to Ms. Granger. He should also go over the police reports involving Ms. Granger again. Perhaps there was something he had missed, or something that, in light of new knowledge of her personality should be reinterpreted.

He considered asking Babs to do the research for him, but something stopped him. Though they'd taken to using Oracle to find out a good portion of the information they needed, Dick had yet to bring Ms. Granger to her attention. Everything he knew about her, he'd found out himself.

For the moment, this was a Bludhaven problem, not a Gotham problem. The last thing he wanted was to chance involving Gotham. He'd do the research himself.

* * *

Hermione blinked as Luna tilted her head to the side. She had to admit, even by her standards, this was strange.

"Did he just…?" asked Hermione.

Luna nodded. "I do believe they've hit the bottom of the barrel."

"Well, he was rather incompetent, wasn't he," admitted Hermione. "Do you want to call nine-one-one or should I?"

"I do believe that nice clerk has already made the call."

Luna motioned toward the angry looking clerk holding some form of shotgun. Hermione momentarily considered that perhaps she should learn more firearms. But her father and Uncle John had always made sure that she and Irene stayed as far from such things as possible.

"Well, we might as well sit down. It may take a while for the cops to arrive," said Hermione, her voice carrying to the shop clerk and the other two customers.

With that Hermione and Luna sat down in two of the chairs set out for customers. The clerk stared at them, as if wondering if they were insane, before turning to the hysterical customers on the other side of the store.

"I think we may need to find a new florist," added Hermione. "I rather doubt we'll be allowed in here again."

"We could always ask Neville. You know how much he and Hannah love plants and gardens."

"I suppose."

"At least we managed to order what we need."

"I still would have liked some more branches."

They fell silent as the sound of sirens reached their ears. It seemed that the cops had actually been able to arrive in a timely manner.

* * *

Only in Bludhaven would a florist have a gun. There were times when Dick wondered if he wasn't just fighting a loosing battle. It seemed to him that no matter what he did as a cop or as Nightwing, it barely made a dent.

Dick and his partner, Amy Rohrbach, had been sent to respond to the call about a florist shooting somebody in his store since they were the closest. The dispatcher hadn't been clear on the specifics, but it seemed that the florist had been protecting his customers. Doubtless the truth of the matter would be quite different.

* * *

Hermione watched as two cops entered the shop silently. Judging by the sound of new sirens, an ambulance was close behind.

Her eyes widened. "Dick?"

She certainly hadn't expected her probable assassin. The slight woman next to Grayson looked at her before turning back to her partner.

"Rookie?" asked the woman.

"Uh, Hermione and I are planning on going out on our second date on Friday," explained Dick. He then turned to Hermione. "Are you alright? Where did those bruises come from?"

Hermione motioned toward the dead wizard lying in the middle of the shop hesitantly. She didn't want to think about the fact that had not the shop clerk interfered, she would likely have suffered injuries far worse than a probable sprained wrist and more bruises than she'd had at any one time in months.

"Grayson," reminded the woman.

* * *

"So you and your friend were there to buy flowers," prompted Detective Miller

They'd gone over what had happened in the shop twice already. Hermione wasn't sure if this was because of how many times her name had come up in police reports, the apparent betting pool, or if detective Miller merely took his job seriously. Perhaps too seriously. She was the victim, not the criminal.

"For May Day. And we had just finished ordering the flowers when that man appeared," explained Hermione. "When I looked up from putting my wallet away he was there. He knocked Luna to the ground and I kicked him in… well, uh, between the legs."

What Hermione hadn't mentioned was that she'd used the distraction to wordlessly summon the man's wand. It had landed near Luna, who had promptly snapped it. Luckily the man was Wizarding. Most other branches of magic didn't use magical foci as anything other than a last resort or when completing incredibly difficult spells.

"He punched me in the stomach then grabbed my arm. He hit in the face a couple times, uh, I think. It's a bit fuzzy. I think I lost consciousness because the next thing I remember, I was on the floor and he was trying to choke me. Then I heard a loud noise and he collapsed. I didn't notice that he'd been shot until after I pushed him off me."

"After that?"

"Luna helped me stand and we went to sit down until the police came."

"You don't seem to be all that upset."

"Well crying and carrying on wouldn't have been of much use, now would it?"

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Granger. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Miller actually seemed a bit concerned.

Hermione stood, then winced. Perhaps it would be a good idea. Though she tried not to go to a healer unless she was under a spell she could not fix or so direly injured that she risked death, Hermione had never had much of a problem with going to a non-magical doctor if she was truly in need. Hermione merely felt that non-magical doctors were much more reliable than magical ones, particularly when it came to non-magical injuries. Hermione had not thought her injuries all that serious when she'd declined the first offer. Now, however, her injuries felt far worse.

"Actually, a trip to the emergency room might be in order," admitted Hermione.

"Wait here, I'll find somebody to take you."

Hermione sat back down as Miller got up from his desk. She put her head in her hand, trying to ignore her rising nausea. Perhaps she had received a concussion after all.

"Hermione?" the voice was soft and hesitant.

She looked up, then winced at the pain such action caused. A wave of nausea passed over her. Hermione reminded herself not to do that again.

"Hullo Dick," said Hermione, instantly on guard.

"Miller said your interview was over. Amy and I are going to take you to the hospital, alright?"

"Amy?"

"My partner."

"Oh."

Surely Grayson would not be so arrogant as to harm her while in the presence of his partner. And even if he would do so, Miller knew where she was. Unless this was a conspiracy being perpetrated by the entire department. Even then, to kill her at this point would be incredibly foolhardy. Hermione rather doubted that they would be that stupid.

* * *

Dick helped Ms. Granger walk into the emergency room, noting how weak she seemed. This was too real for Dick to even consider it an act. She was still scared of him, of that Dick was sure. However it seemed that se had no intention to act on that fear. At least not this afternoon.

She leaned heavily on him, obviously having some difficulty staying upright. Ms. Granger was far too pale, and slightly green in color. He'd known that she'd received a head injury, but perhaps it was worse that first assumed.

"I'll stay with her if you…" Dick trailed off.

Amy nodded, her expression tight as she walked over to the desk.

Dick gently assisted Hermione into a chair.

"Do you have any way to get home from the hospital?" asked Dick.

"I-no. Penelope is my only friend with a car and she's… she's in New York City with her husband right now," said Ms. Granger. "I can-I can take the bus or a cab."

Dick shook his head, concern for her outweighing his opinion about just how dangerous Ms. Granger probably was. He ripped a piece of paper out of his notepad and then wrote down two separate phone numbers. Though he'd given her his number before, Dick doubted that she would be capable of remembering it without help.

"This is my home number and the number you can reach me at if I'm at work. If I'm at work, just ask them for Officer Grayson. My shift ends in half an hour. Call me when they release you. I'll take you home, alright?"

Hermione opened her mouth, the look on her face suggesting that she was about to object, then stopped herself. "Ok," she agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this up. I've had a bad couple of days. I'll try to update once or twice each week, but no guarantees.

* * *

Chapter 5

Hermione examined the piece of paper in her hand. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she agreed to let Grayson drive her back to her apartment?

She hadn't made a mistake like this in years. It was the height of stupidity to get into a vehicle with a man who probably wanted to kill her and trust him to drive her anywhere. But she'd been in so much pain. She'd barely been aware enough to hear his request. At the time, she certainly hadn't had enough energy to be scared, let alone to pretend that she wasn't.

With a sigh, she picked up her phone. The doctors had kept her for several hours, treating the injuries before decided she could leave. Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd already be asleep. One look at the clock was enough to disprove that idea. It wasn't even eight yet.

* * *

After a quick look in the mirror, Hermione pulled out her wand. She felt and looked miserable. Though she was not to sort to dress up or wear makeup, she could and would make herself presentable.

She quickly cleaned her body, clothing, and hair. That was better. A lock of hair fell in front of her eyes. With a sigh, Hermione tapped her bobby pins with her wand and then pointed the wand at the back of her head, picturing what she wanted. Her hair twisted and the rolled in on itself into practical chignon as the bobby pins secured it in place.

Sometimes Hermione wondered why she still adhered to such strict Wizarding standards, particularly when it came to her appearance. But then, she'd spent more years of her life among the Wizarding than anywhere else.

There was a knock on the door leading into the room she shared with another woman. Hermione put her wand away and walked out of the bathroom. She'd spent a little over two hours in the hospital and desperately wanted to get back to her apartment.

Though there were spells in place that would automatically put out food for her cats, she didn't want to leave them alone for two long. Crookshanks was getting on in years and Fluff was nearing the end of her nine week pregnancy. Luna would step in to take care of them if need be, but Hermione didn't want her friend to face the wards around her apartment unless absolutely necessary.

"Hermione?" said Grayson.

She quickly slipped her wand into her arm holster. "Just a minute."

Hermione brushed off her slightly wrinkled skirt and walked out of the bathroom sans irreparably ripped stockings. She gave Grayson an unsure smile, trying to hide her fear.

"Thank you for…"

"It's no big deal," insisted Grayson. "Are you ready to go?"

Hermione slipped on her scuffed flats before nodding. "I've just got to sign out."

* * *

Dick said nothing as he listened to the doctor's instructions. It seemed Hermione had been injured far worse than he'd originally thought. Not including the various bumps and bruses, she had a severely sprained wrist, two cracked ribs, a concussion, and a gash on her leg which had required nine stitches.

If nothing else, this was certainly a new piece to the puzzle that was Hermione Granger. Unfortunately, it only raised more questions.

"… need to wake up every two hours,' explained Dr. Shmidt.

"I'll make sure she wakes up," volunteered dick, before he had a chance to think his words through.

Hermione gave him a look that made it quite clear that he had overstepped the bounds of their relationship. However, she nodded her head in agreement, a hard look in her eyes.

It was all Dick could do not to show his reaction. He knew that look, though he'd never seen it on her face before. It was the look of somebody who found an action to be distasteful, but was going to do it anyway. Even so, her fear was still there, just under the surface. He rather hoped that Hermione really was as bad an actress as she seemed.

This was dangerous. He was walking into a this situation blind, and chances were, if he made a mistake, he wouldn't live to regret it.

* * *

As Hermione pretended to have trouble unlocking her door, she carefully changed the wards to allow Grayson to enter the apartment. It was a subtle piece of magic easily changed without words or motions, so long as Hermione was within the wards themselves. She opened the door and turned on the lights.

Crookshanks immediately head butted Hermione's leg before he wound his way through her legs affectionately. Surprisingly, Fluff didn't come to greet her.

"What's its name?" asked Grayson, motioning toward her familiar.

"He's Crookshanks, one of my cats," she explained.

"How many cats do you have?" asked Grayson, closing the door behind him.

"Two, at the moment. At least I think so," she added as an after thought. "I'm not sure where Fluff-that's short for, well, you don't want to know what that's short for-is. Luna named her."

"Are you planning on getting another cat?" Grayson sounded confused.

"Fluff's due to give birth to her litter any day now," she explained. "Luna spends her free time volunteering at the Bludhaven SPCA. She convinced me to foster Fluff until her kittens are old enough to go up for adoption. Anyway, Fluff and Crookshanks get along so well that I adopted her."

"Oh. Are you hungry? I could order some take out if you want."

Hermione gave him a morally offended look. "You'll do no such thing. I'll cook dinner. Have you eaten yet?"

"No. Haven't had a chance to. Uh… are you sure you're up to cooking?"

"I'll be fine. Just give me a minute to change and then I'll make dinner. Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the couch and watch some television."

Before Grayson had a chance to object, Hermione walked down the hall and into her bedroom. She quickly changed into a soft, more casual wrap dress before letting her hair down. Hermione then searched though her second bedroom turned workroom for the proper potion. Once found, she slipped it into her pocket. Hopefully Grayson wouldn't suspect anything until it was too late.

"How do you feel about chicken and couscous with vegetables?" asked Hermione as she walked back out.

"That sounds good. Are you sure you don't need any help?" asked Grayson.

She bit her lip, then said, "So long as you don't mind chopping vegetables and doing the heavy lifting."

"That's no problem. What do you want me to do first?" he asked, walking into the room.

"Fill that pot a third of the way with water. Then put it on that burner."

They worked quickly, Grayson doing his best to make her smile. He told joke after joke, most of them rather bad. Though Hermione had to admit, that she found far too many of them amusing.

As dinner neared its completion, Hermione set in motion the first part of her plan. "What do you want to drink? I have juice, milk or water."

"What sort of juice?"

"Orange, apple, cranberry, and pumpkin."

"Pumpkin?"

"It was popular when I was in school. And most of my friends drink it religiously," she explained somewhat sheepishly. She had to admit, she had often shared his slightly disturbed reaction to the popularity of such a strange drink.

"I'll have milk."

"Why don't you take the plates and silverware into the dining room while I get the drinks."

She waited until he was out of the room before slipping three drops of the potion into his milk. Hermione rather hated the use of veritaserum, but this had gone on far too long. Enough was enough. She would find out what he wanted, and if need be, take care of the situation before the night was through.

Hermione carefully picked the glass up with her left hand while carrying her own glass with her right. The last thing she wanted, or needed was for Grayson's milk to be spilled.

She followed him out of the enclosed kitchen and into the living room/dining room The sight that greeted Hermione almost made her drop her glass. Grayson was petting a purring Crookshanks while a heavily pregnant Fluff played with the cuff of his shirt.

Traitors.

Hermione gave her cats a look that made it clear they would not be getting treats for quite a while before putting the glasses down. Crookshanks rubbed against Grayson before padding over to Hermione. He meowed her loudly.

Hermione absentmindedly scratched him as she placed the glass of milk in front of Grayson. "I hope my cats haven't been bothering you."

"No. Not at all. My… mother is very fond of cats."

He walked around the table to pull her chair out for her. Once Hermione was situated Dick sat down in his chair.

"So what type of car was that?" asked Hermione. "Your car, I mean."

Grayson smiled and launched into a monologue about muscle cars. Muscle cars? Never mind, she didn't want to know. She'd only asked to put him at ease. After all, years of being friends with boys had taught her that they loved brooms and quidditch.

As he finished his explanation, Crookshanks meowed at Grayson, who merely smiled and scratched him behind the ear. As dick reached with his other hand for the glass of milk, Crookshanks pounced. The glass flew out of Grayson's hand, spilling all over the carpeted floor.

"Crookshanks!" scolded Hermione.

How could her traitor of a familiar have done such a thing?

* * *

Dick wasn't sure what had happened, but Hermione had quite suddenly warmed up to him. Midway through dinner, that worrying look had faded from her eyes, replaced by confusion. He wasn't sure exactly when she'd stopped being frightened by him, but it seemed that by the time Hermione had gone to bed, her fear was gone.

It seemed that he had finally gained access to the apartment. Absentmindedly petting Crookshanks, Dick pretended to sleep on the couch as he waited for Hermione to fall asleep.

Once a sufficient amount of time had passed, he began his search.

The living room and dining room had revealed nothing beyond nearly a thousand openly stored books of magic. Dick had to admit that Hermione had a very large collection. He wasn't sure that some of his colleagues could match it.

Several pictures caught his eye. Most contained a pair of boys, one with dark hair, the other with red, though there were numerous others. In almost all the pictures, they wore the robes so favored by magic users. It was not until he looked again that Dick realized many of the figures in these pictures moved about an their own.

Three pictures were prominently placed. One was of Hermione with what seemed to be her parents and four younger siblings. The boys looked incredibly familiar for some reason, though he couldn't quite put his finger on who they reminded him of. The second was of a large group of magic users. A man who looked rather like the black haired boy caught dick's eye, but the man had brown eyes, not green. The third was also of a large group of magic users. Many from the previous picture were gone, those who reappeared a good ten or fifteen years older. Hermione and the two boys stood prominently in the middle, grim looks upon their faces.

He filed it away for later thought and then moved on to the kitchen. Unfortunately, all he found were a couple books on how to use magic to make cooking easier.

After waking Hermione up, and then waiting for her to go back to sleep, he continued his search. The hall closet was locked. Nothing he did would open it. The second door revealed the most interesting thing he'd found all night.

It seemed to be a workroom of some sort. There were several bookshelves full of books on magic. A desk pushed against the only window was covered in carefully filed sheets of paper full of equations. Unfortunately, the equations didn't seem to be any type of math he knew of. An entire wall was covered in shelves holding strange vials, herbs, and numerous other things he didn't recognize.

Dick carefully searched the room, doing his best not to trigger anything dangerous. But by the end of the night, he'd found nothing beyond the locked closet. Not even in Hermione's bedroom.


End file.
